"I have injured you sufficiently already.

I would not have your blood on my head.

On the honour of a soldier, I am sorry for the wrong I have done you, and will strive to repair it." "Repair it!" shrieked Disbrowe.

"It is too late." And seizing the major's arm, he dragged him by main force into the alley.
"Help! help!" roared Pillichody.

"Would you murder me ?" "I will assuredly cut your throat, if you keep up this clamour," rejoined Disbrowe, snatching the other's long rapier from his side.
"Coward!" he added, striking him with the flat side of the weapon, "this will teach you to mix yourself up in such infamous affairs for the future." And heedless of the major's entreaties and vociferations, he continued to belabour him, until compelled by fatigue to desist; when the other, contriving to extricate himself, ran off as fast as his legs could carry him.